


On Behalf Of Roach

by slipperysailors



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Jokes, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Gentle Kissing, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jaskier | Dandelion Being an Idiot, M/M, Sleepy Kisses, Stupidity, big brain moment, dude i was tired so i made them tired, im obsessed with these two sluts, im tired alright i cant tag, kinda bamf, roach is a saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipperysailors/pseuds/slipperysailors
Summary: “You’re thinking about the horse, don't think about the horse, think about my lovely arse,”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 225
Collections: these bitches gay! good for them!!





	On Behalf Of Roach

He who has seen a mountain of civilian, innocent and war rotten bodies does not wilt like the rest of man.

For Geralt is not a man, this is what they tell him, he is merely a creature that roams forgotten lands of kingdoms and speaks to the monsters in the only way they know how; violence. A cretin to the hunt, a mere slave to his instincts. Yet he has gained a convincing conscious, the ability to think and not feel. What does a witcher desire? What does a witcher want? They do not trouble themselves with knowing what a witcher needs, for he performs on this very premise, what he needs. He needs to see a beast slaughtered, to rut like a wild animal and feed like all living things.

Now, you must understand, Geralt isn’t human, he reflects one yes, but he has been isolated and shunned on the very points we have talked about above. He renounces the name, and becomes the creature they desire. So they may understand how he works, it is simpler, easier to work this way. There’s no pedantic _bards_ following him around, talking of his fame and fortune, because he isn't human so he doesn't want fame among them. He is of the simple understanding, he was put into the world to do a job, and he likes the job, so he keeps doing the job. _Simple._

This world view of his is, cracked, because he isn't a creature either. He can feel, and he knows he can feel. Especially, at lively _fucking_ bards who don’t stop bloody singing. That particular feeling is annoyance. 

“Jaskier.” The witcher doesn't roll his head to look at the lithe little man wondering alongside him, only inclines it to show him he is listening as they travel along another dirt track in the wild.

Abruptly, Jaskier stops fingering the lute and his voice comes to a halt, he glares at the side of Geralt’s head, “This better be bloody good Geralt, I’m in the midst of composing a new _ballad, _your interference does me no good,”

“Hmm,” He waits a moment, to let Jaskier wrath settle a little in the dust, “Shut up,”

The bard gapes at him, “Oh, you bloody swine,” He says, “How _unfortunate_, it seems I've lost my place because of you,” Geralt does _not_ like the way Jaskier’s voice carries mischief, “I’ll have to start again,”

Now he snaps his head around to the man, glaring at him in his atrocious blue outfit with puffy sleeves and the front buttons undone, “Don’t make me get off this horse,” 

“Or what?” Jaskier stops walking, placing one hand on his hip and relaxing the lute in his other hand, “You’ll_ spank_ me?”

He wants to say yes, because he knows the bard will become utterly confused if he does, just the right kind too, where he’s flustered at a loss of words, unable to form a coherent sentence. Geralt will live to see the day the bard shuts up, but he turns his head back to the path instead. Today will not be that day.

“That’s what I thought,” Jaskier says, taking up his lute and beginning to play again, only this time it is not the same ballad, it's more of a jig, thumping around his ears like a drunken dance and Jaksier begins to sing. As long as it’s not another made up love song or monster hunting ballad, Geralt will haply let Jaskier sing and play whatever he wants. 

“Geralt of Rivia,

Once offered to spank me-” 

Geralt picks up a cloth from his bag and lobs it at the bard, “Shut up.”

“Spank me, Geralt, and maybe I will,” 

Today _is_ the day. Today _is_ definitely the day. “_Fine_.” 

Jaskier gapes and then promptly does_ not_ shut up, “Well get off the horse then, or shall I come up to you?” He offers, slipping himself closer to Geralt and Roach, “Or have you gone all chicken shit on me now?”

Geralt doesn’t quite know what to do with himself then, the notion of actually following through on spanking a fucking bard, in the middle of nowhere, with literally only Roach as a witness. He almost vomits of Roach’s behalf.

“You’re thinking about the horse, don't think about the horse, think about my lovely arse,” He says, “Don’t be coy Geralt, I’m waiting,”

He stops Roach. He looks down at the bard, who’s holding his ability to laugh barely, and he climbs off the horse. 

“Oh bugger,” Jaskier says, coming face to face with Geralt, “I didn't think you actually wanted to do it,”

“I don’t.” Geralt says, and snatches the lute away from Jaskier, “But I’m taking this, on behalf of Roach.”

The horse neighs in approval. 

“You- You absolute arse,” He says in disbelief, attempting to clutch for the lute as Geralt hops back onto Roach. He isn’t successful and huffs, “You and that damned horse, anyone would think you were lovers,”

“Only you Jaskier,” Geralt says, moving Roach into walking again, “But I’m sure your ignorant jealousy would make a _wonderful_ song,”

“The witcher has jokes now!” Jaskier cries, “Dear god, what have I done?”

“Jaskier?” He asks, grabbing the man's attention to him again, “Shut up.”

“Ugh, you are such a bother,” He says, trying to ignore the constant need to hum a tune before Geralt stops him again, and this time Geralt might _actually_ spank him. And Geralt is no soft hearted man, not with muscles like an ox and a fury as violent as the day Jaskier was booed out of the very bar he met him in. 

He stays quiet for the most part, even if it physically pains him, and watches as the sunsets around them, it’s darkness shrouding the wilderness in the same darkness as Geralt clothes. Jaskier almost snorts at the thought, but instead looks to the witcher who seems to be sniffing the air suspiciously.

“Stay here,” He says, hopping off Roach, the lute strapped to the horse and Jaskier grins. He’ll steal back the lute when Geralt disappears into the thickets without explanation. 

Jaskier waves him off, “Go on then, saunter off into the night with your tight trousers and leave Roach in my capable care,” He can feel Geralt blinking with a long unimpressed stare of annoyance, but ignores it until he is sure the witcher has gone far enough for him to not hear the faint sounds of the lute. 

He surries over to Roach, practically throwing himself at the lute, and unclips it from her, “I am a man of music, you can’t keep it from me, Roach,” he mumurmers into her ear, before giving it a good scratch and wondering over to a barely visible rock on the side of the path. He sits and plucks a few strings happily to be reunited with the instrument. 

Roach shakes her head at him, “Oh shut it, you’re just like him, you have no appreciation for my craft,” He angrily whispers, plucking a bit harder.

Roach slams a hoof down, and shoots her head up in a gesture to the darkness in front of her. Jaskier cocks his head curiously at her, before she does it again, and this time Jaskier actually follows with his eyes. To another pair of eyes. Big eyes. Big red angry eyes, with a giant shadowy creature that crawls out of the bushes and gets larger and larger until it blocks out the last inklings of light,

“Geralt!” He screeches, dashing to Roaches side, “GERALT!” 

The thing looms, menacing and stares at them. Jaskier loses almost all of his will to scream again, because if the monster is here, where is Geralt? 

“Geralt,” and it’s more of thoughtful mumble, as he sees a pair of the witcher’s yellow eyes blinking at him from the otherside of the creature, he sees the glint of his sword, raised and ready for the beast to turn. But it doesn’t, the thing stays still, juts out its head like a tic, and Jaskier turns around, 

There's another one. Right _fucking_ behind him. About to take a chunk of fine meat from his ass with its disgusting rotting teeth.

Jaskier _boots _it. Square in those beady little red bastard eyes, and it goes flying back with a shriek. 

Geralt pushes past him, sword dripping with blood and slaughters the thing, as he had done the other. 

Jaskier watches in a stunned daze, as Geralt hurls him up onto Roach, and then places himself behind Jaskier. He makes the horse race as fast as it possibly can away from the site with two grown men on her back. Geralt tucks his arm around Jaskier’s abdomen, holding him in place as he kept falling lopsided and almost falling completely off Roach. 

After awhile, he comes to his senses, the stun of the shierk wears off and he relaxes back into Geralt’s chest, comfortable to stay there until Geralt deems they are far enough. He’s mad, violently fucking angry with Geralt for leaving him like that in the open, a monster about to bite into him, no weapons and no details of what the hell the thing was. But he’d save the lecture for the morning, when he wasn’t drained of walking on foot all day and almost having his ass eaten, (although be it not in the same way as he would usually have it, it had the same lasting affect, but a bit more pissing his pants worthy).

Jaskier has no idea how long Geralt cradles him like that, holding Jaskier firmly into his chest, but he does it until he stops sniffing the air like a rabbit and brings Roach to a stop. Geralt lightly brushes his chin against Jaskier’s hair, and breathes out deeply. They’re both insanely tired, but Geralt maneuvers them off Roach, before unpacking their bedrolls, and dragging Jaskier over by his wrist from his sleep on a nearby tree trunk. 

Jaskier rubs his eyes, looking at Geralt’s clothed chest pressed into his own and he literally couldn’t care less why his own arms are wrapped firmly around his best friend, or why his best friend’s are wrapped around him. He just knows he likes it, so he’s going to keep doing it. So he let’s sleep fucking take him and sink into a world where he wasn’t almost eaten out by an ugly red eyed son of a bitch.

When they wake up, Geralt’s still pressed into him as if Jaskier’s a fucking teddy bear. Jaskier is curled into him, so he can’t really complain. He’s basking in the warmth and brightening sky, the smell of Geralt around him. And for once in his damn life, he likes being fully clothed with someone, even if he’s still a little bit pissed about the whole monster thing.

Geralt presses a sleepy kiss into his temple, and Jaskier finds himself melting into it.

He pulls himself up a little, resting so their heads are level and meets the witcher eye’s with his own, and they share a sleep deprived, delicate and soft kiss. 

He is of the simple understanding, that he was put in this world to kiss the witcher, and he likes kissing the witcher, so he's going to keep kissing the witcher. _Simple_.

**Author's Note:**

> 1am update: I'm not asleep because I'm busy listening to music and writing ridiculous shit like this, pray for me.
> 
> this was going to be serious but I couldn't do it, as I cant take myself seriously so this was born. 
> 
> 3am update: honestly I literally am barely awake and I have college tomorrow. im sorry but alevels can wait if I don't get a fucking kiss in before dawn.  
just to clarify, I haven't played the witcher games nor read the books, but the monster in this is called a alghoul.  
apologies if there's grammar n spelling errors, i'll come back to it at some point, but right now I want some fucking sleep.


End file.
